Chapter 23
When Caterina and Santo walked into the ivory-and-gold-mirrored salon where the judges and winemakers were gathered, Caterina felt stares of ridicule and heard whispers. How dare an American winemaker enter such a prestigious contest? Who does she think she is?
Santo heard the comments, too, but he didn’t understand French as well as she did. “There are the Morels. What are they saying?” He bent his head close to hers. “Whatever it is doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s not.” She translated the remarks. “As you heard, my entrance wasn’t particularly well received.” Though her words were edged with bitterness, she was warming to the fact that he was here. At least she wasn’t alone. But it didn’t mean she had to fall for him again. “Our wine gained entry into the competition, and that’s
